


your lie in winter

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AND IT'S A HAPPY ENDING DON'T WORRY, M/M, no one dies, slight shigatsu wa kimi no uso AU no one asked me to write but yolo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 07:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of your first memories is of your chubby toddler hands reaching for a cherry blossom flower.</p><p>Your second is the person who would become your everything in the future- your first childhood friend, your first best friend, your first kiss, your first crush, love, and the one who would hold onto your heart in his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your lie in winter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neptuningfork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptuningfork/gifts).



> written for arminslglasses or violinstakaashi on tumblr! i'm so exc ited about this y ou have no idea 
> 
> oh god this is my first iwaoi i hope i don't butcher them
> 
> Also! you should read this first since this comes up a few times in the story http://seijouline.tumblr.com/post/113637643016/hanamaki-finding-ku-nemo-oikawa-kunemo-lmao  
> bless seijouline
> 
> Update 10/5/2016: changed the formatting a little so there's less spacing

 

One of your first memories is of your chubby toddler hands reaching for a cherry blossom flower. 

Your second is the person who would become your everything in the future- your first childhood friend, your first best friend, your first kiss, your first crush, love, and the one who would hold onto your heart in his hands.

Very carefully, you reach out for the tantalizing flower, yellow spores with darker pinks spotting the petal as your big sister nervously watches from below. She knows you have a fear for heights and has lectured you about thinking with your brain first. But as a five year old, thinking has been the last thing on your mind as your bravely scale the rough bark, almost climbing it like the staircase at your house with too tight shoes and the clothes your mother picked out for you.

There's a loud crack behind you, and the branch you're on lurches to the ground and you immediately hug it, letting out a small wail as your sister runs to find your mom somewhere in the park. The wind sways the tree even more and by now you have tears falling out of your eyes, nose runny as you feel heat wash over your face and think that you're too young to die at five. 

The branch cracks, and you fall.

You land on a person, and they make a loud huff as arms- darker than yours with band aids covering every few inches of skin and the smell of sunblock and grass wafts into your nose- wrap around you, catching you. The mysterious boy falls, but you both land on the grass, and you want to kiss the ground before you look up to thank them when your mother runs to you, white faced and holding a handkerchief.

" _Tooru!_ " She roughly dabs the fancy pink tissue near your face and you move to avoid it when she holds you by the ear before hissing- the light lavender color in your head turns to a dark maroon as she admonishes you further. "Do  **not** ever climb the tree without me watching over you, do you hear me young man? What if Iwaizumi-kun wasn't there to catch you?!"

You hate it when she calls you 'young man', but nod feebly as your mother thankfully turn her attention to the other boy, voice reverting to a pretty light purple that is nearly the same shade as the sakura flowers your sister really likes. "Thank you for catching him, Iwaizumi-kun. Tooru is thankful, _aren't you Tooru?_ "

"Thank you." You say automatically. You don't know who the boy is, but he looks around your age- just a little taller.

" _Tooru._ "

You lift up your head finally to look at the boy whose name is too complicated for you to form vowels around. You're usually shy around other children, but the shock of landing on another kid seems to give you some courage, so you playfully peek your tongue out before blinding the other kid with a pearly smile as he holds onto his bug net. "Thank you, Iwa-chan~"

The stranger squawks in anger, and you can feel your mother's glare on you, but you pull the boy by his wrist, interested at the different shade of skin (yours a pale alabaster and his a dark tan) before running straight for the playground with the sun kissing your skin. Petals are raining down again, and the sky is blue (like your favorite color) when you introduce yourself to the stranger. 

"I'm Oikawa Tooru! What's your name?"

"Iwaizumi Hajime."

And that is your second memory.

 

You find out that Iwaizumi Hajime-kun just moved into the house right next to yours, and both of your rooms are facing each other's. The other boy doesn't seem to be as excited as you are. His mother seems to be very fond of you as you barge into his house after school and piano lessons each day with glow in the dark stickers and the astronomy guide your sister picked out for you. 

Each morning, you eat breakfast, tie your shoes (with your sister snickering because your dad has to teach you all over again every day), say goodbye, and go to Iwaizumi's house to pick him up. Then, at school, where your desks are clustered together into small pods, you spend recess and lunch and break with him. You cry as you spill some liquid glue. He hands you some paper towels and helps you clean up. You tear up when you fall from the tree again ("What is up with you and trees, Bakatooru?" "How mean, Iwa-chan!") and he's always there with a handful of band aids in his fist, scowling at you.

He's always there for you, and you slowly grow used to it.

 

"Volleyball?"

"Yes! Iwa-chan showed me a match on TV and I want to start playing with him!" You present your mother, who's a piano teacher, a form that she has to fill out. "I want to go to Nationals when I'm in high school!"

Her mouth quirks up in amusement. "You're still seven-"

"It's better to start early!"

Then she gives you a forlorn look that crushes some of the hope fluttering in your chest. "What about piano?" 

"...what about piano?" You ask, confused. The awards and trophies you're starting to accumulate is taking up all the wall space in your room, covering the star posters. Your sister also looks enviously at every piano certificate your dad frames in the living room right beside the shiny Fazioli. "Mom, can't I play volleyball?"

"I'm just afraid that you'll hurt your fingers and you won't participate in a competition, sweetie."

You cringe at the nickname. When you were younger, sweetie and honey had been fine, but you're growing! "Mom, I'll be careful!"

"...well, alright." Her ever handy pen comes out of nowhere and she quickly does an adult scribble on the paper before handing it to you, and you feel a flutter of excitement as you take it back. The prospect of training with Iwaizumi is too great for you and you let out a small cheer as your sister shoots you a mean glare from the couch, telling you to shut up.

 

"Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan!"

"What, To- Oikawa?"

"My mom signed my form!"

"Hey! Awesome!"

 

You come to Kitagawa Daiichi and come to a wall called Ushijima Wakatoshi.

At first, you paid no mind to it since you're used to competing with other geniuses, but as the matches and years go by, you start to fall into a never ending mantra of practice, practice, practice. It's becoming harder to pull you away from the gym after school when practice is over, and your mother starts to frown when you come home with tape around your fingers because you've damaged a ligament.

It's terribly frustrating and the only thing you want is to taste victory again since you've gone so long being deprived of it. It's almost too late for you to turn back to piano since your left hand is shaky and weak from not practicing, but you play in a few smaller concours and decide that piano was never your instrument- it was always your sister's.

But volleyball is yours.

You start to hoard volleyballs in your room, exchanging your beloved galaxy posters for training regiments you print off the internet. You'll miss your star posters but you've memorized them to a T. Nights where you would drag Iwaizumi onto the roofs (your parents doesn't know. Your mom will ground you if she finds that you're up on the god damn roof) is replaced for time in front of the laptop your mother gave to you for school purposes. You become good at analyzing, but then again, you were always good at looking through music and picking out where the composer would bring out the important melody. 

One afternoon on your rare day away from the gym, you look at all the music awards and scores in your room, and ask your mom for a box.

 

"You shouldn't neglect your friend, Tooru."

You look up, surprised as your sister studies a music score during dinner, shielding the original copy from your mother's homemade soba. If she has music scores, you're formulating the best attack patterns to thwart Shiratorizawa in your head as you play with the noodles. You stab your meatball and think of Ushiwaka before your dad chides at you. "What do you mean?"

"Iwaizumi. I never see him around." 

You realize that she is right, and berate yourself for shielding him out. It's just that you're always with him, and you know that he worries about you on more occasions than one when you start to limp after practice. You inhale your dinner after that, and runs into Iwaizumi's house, greeting his parents before opening the door to your best friend's room.

He looks up, raising a brow from his English textbook. "Oikawa?"

"Iwa-chan! I'm sorry I've ignored you!"

Then he frowns. It's all he does these days. Frown, get angry, quietly apologize, and frown again. "What are you talking about?" He scratches his head and you're distracted by the band of muscle in his arm flexing and he has to repeat his question again, louder.

You feel heat across your cheeks. "My- my sister says that you haven't come over. And she's right. I've been neglecting you and you don't deserve that!"

"...I'm not going to argue with her, but I do want you to know that volleyball is a team sport. There's no 'I' in team, Oikawa." Then his best friend pats the spot beside him, "Do you want me to test you on English?"

You dive beside him, nodding frantically because your English is terrible and it's nice to have Iwa-chan back again.

 

He's Prometheus. 

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE FIGHTING BY YOURSELF? YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME YOU DUMBASS!" His hands go around your collar and he pulls you up. Momentarily, you've forgotten that you're still 14- nearly on the cusp of being 15. If Iwaizumi has gotten moodier and stronger over the years, you've also grown taller, but your frame is still weedy and he gives you a little shake, furious. "IF YOU THINK HOW YOU'RE DOING EQUALS HOW THE TEAM WILL DO, I'LL PUNCH YOU!"

You point to the split lip Iwaizumi gave you, eyes watering because you may wrestle with him a lot but when Iwaizumi wants to punch you, he  _punches_ you. "You already did!"

You look into his eyes as he angrily yells into your face, exasperated, voice turning a deep red, "There's no one on our team who can beat Ushiwaka one-on-one! However... there are  **six** players on the volleyball court! Even if our opponent's some genius first year or Ushiwaka,  _with six people, the strong are even stronger, you dumbass!_ "

All the anger seems to have finally wheeze out of your best friend. His grip loosens on your collar and he straightens slightly, broad shoulders catching your attention as you both are nearing graduation. He gruffly looks down, and it's then when you make the connection that he's offering you fire.

You quietly whisper, head churning with the new information as the pain in your knee lessens. "'With six people, the strong are even stronger.'" It's like history is being played again. You won that setter award because you trusted- had faith- in your spikers, so why shouldn't you have faith in your team? 

You look up to thank him when the light in his eyes slides out of focus and he tips towards you.

" _Iwaizumi!_ "

 

You childishly fight the doctors and nurses to stay beside him as they run tests to find out what's wrong. Iwaizumi is breathing evenly as you silently shake in your seat, right beside the plush hospital bed with your gym bag in the corner. You don't know why he'd faint suddenly but in your mind you hope he just collapsed from lack of sleep or something minor because it scares you to think of this but you can't live without him.

The door opens and you sit up to see his parents come in, looking white faced as they stroke his hair. His mother thanks you for staying with him, and you nod, before offering the chair to her and walking out of the room to sit in the hallway that smells too much like antiseptic and blood.

Your eyes water, but tears doesn't spill out.

The doctor is at the corner of the hallway, and you flatten yourself before inching closer. It's bad to eavesdrop, but Iwaizumi is your best friend and you want to know if he's okay-

"-doesn't look very good."

You stay there, frozen as a nurse points out the result of the blood test before suggesting a CAT scan and a few x-rays before Iwaizumi has to leave the hospital today. A second nurse joins them and drags the doctor away with him to attend to another patient. The noise of the hospital slowly recedes to a low thrum in you and you put your head back on the wall.

 

"I-Iwa-chan?"

He blinks at you, looking well rested as you stand there in your alien pyjamas that had been a Christmas present two years ago. You don't plan on visiting anyone today, and you ignore your text messages for hogging the Fazioli as your parents drive your sister to Tokyo for some university tours. You're alone for the three day weekend and you've just dug up Ravel's Pavane before slamming it to a shut and hearing a knock.

"Don't look so surprised." Your best friend huffs, moving his feet to slip off his sneakers before gently touching your arm that's blocking his entry. Sparks jump between you, but you're the only one that feels them. He grabs the house slippers from the hall closet like he's in his own house. As he passes you, you suddenly become too aware of your bare arm and his warm hands. "They checked me out last night. You know that. I'm okay. I can play volleyball again."

It's as if all the weight on your shoulders suddenly disappear, and you breath in slightly too loudly that he turns to look at you- really look at your dark circles and messy hair and dorky sweatpants that you think his eyes are softening. "Really?"

Iwaizumi never smiles much, not really, but when he does, you feel like you can conquer the world. The corner of his mouth quirks up. "Really."

You are fifteen, the cicadas are buzzing outside, and you think that you resemble Atlas for a few hours before a grin breaks out and you're hugging him. Him and his inky hair and the smell of the blistering sun and cotton on him as you both sway in your living room.

 

You both attend Aoba Johsai, respectively becoming captain and vice captain as you face the ever looming wall of Shiratorizawa's Ushiwaka. You've talked to him, once accidentally when you're helping your sister move into her dorm in Tokyo U while he's jogging. You both only wish each good luck since Inter High season was around the corner. 

The second time is when autumn comes early. You're facing him in your first official match as captain, and you grip his hand as the crowds scream themselves hoarse. Ushiwaka is emotionless, per usual as you promise to defeat him with your team.

And his answer is always the same.

"Shiratorizawa will win."

And they do.

They do and you smile at your coach saying that you want to stay behind and lightly practice your tosses to the wall when you really want to practice your service aces, because it's the one attack that goes through Shiratorizawa's massive blocks. If you could have landed more aces in, you could have brought them to victory. If you'd toss more to the spikers instead of setting dumps, they could have won. If you had. If you had.  _If only you had._

"Asskawa." The voice is right behind you. You're sitting on the floor, knee flaring in minute pain as Iwaizumi grabs you by the collar and shakes you again. His voice is deep red and he's hissing at you, pupils contracting in anger as you look at him blankly. "Asskawa what are you doing to your knee?"

You don't understand why he's so angry. All the blame is on you- you're the captain. You make the calls. You're the brain of the group. You're the one who watched all of their previous matches the night before and planned attacks. You're the one who insisted on practicing tosses to all the regulars to get a feel of them, watching them to see where their highest jump is and the angle of the toss that would be easiest for them to spike. You're the one who they all look up to. You're the natural born leader who's suppose to make full use of all of your team's abilities and bring them the title. 

For the second time since high school, you failed to do that.

What kind of captain are you?

You see all the balls you've angrily drove onto the other side of the net in anger and the scuff marks indented in the wall, painted orange from the pretty sunset that shouldn't look so comforting after a hard loss. Your fingertips are tingling in the way that tells you you've sprained a finger again, and you look as your best friend sighing, before pulling you down so he can tape your finger because you're so useless right now.

"You're a good captain. You shouldn't be carrying all the burden by yourself, stupid." Goes Iwaizumi, unwinding a good length of tape before snipping it off with scissors. His fingers are rough, calloused and scarred, but when they touch yours they're gentle, and you stare at him, all of him. All of his hair, sharp eyebrows, strong shoulders that carry you and the team as your throat tightens, and he looks up, profile illuminated by the gentle sunset. "Without you we wouldn't be fourth in the prefecture."

And you cry. "I-I- just want to win!" There's a soft sigh, and you're being tugged forward into his jersey as he rubs your back. You're reminded of all the times you cry in your dark room, eyes stinging and under the pillows because you're a damn ugly crier and it's so painful to come home losing again and again. "I want to beat Ushiwaka-chan and get the banner! I just want to win once against him!"

Many people in the Miyagi prefecture see you as strong- even nicknamed you the Grand King. And you yourself like to think you're strong too, at least, strong enough to pummel Tobio-chan and keep Aoba Johsai as one of the strongest schools in Miyagi. You see weakness easily, as the case for Tobio-chan, his attacks aren't developed enough and you can read him easily like a sheet music.

But even the strongest have an Achilles's heel.

Yours is Iwaizumi Hajime.

 

You don't really remember the moment you fell for him. You two were always together, in grade school, in volleyball practices, matches, during weekends, during school camps, during holidays- the point is, you two are a matched set. The Grand King and his Ace. The King and his Lionheart. 

It has a nice ring to it, you decide when you walks beside Iwaizumi, scarf wound tightly around your neck as the snow falls harder. The volleyball team has gotten together at a last minute idea from Mattsun when he suggest they should visit a shrine (and pray that they would obliterate Shiratorizawa because they're going to be third years next year). Watari is the only one in a yukata, and Hanamaki is gently teasing his underclassmen as you lead them deeper into the shrine that's crowded with people.

A few girls spot you, and you wave at them a little, heart still empty from the ugly loss as the snow falls around you. A few goes into your eye and you let a little discomfort show. Iwaizumi snorts, and you turn to him to say  _how rude, Iwa-chan_  when his fingers flicks one of the snowflakes sitting on your eyelash and you see the string lantern lights hitting him and your heart goes from mellow to frantic in the span of 0.3 seconds.

You don't get a wink of sleep that night, brain replaying Iwaizumi reaching towards your face with a playful grin over and over and over.

 

He has a short temper. He's rough and likes to wrestle you when you get too stubborn. But then again, you're both stubborn until one is headbutted. He's your vice captain and keeps a tight leash on the younger students when you go off into your moods of spiking balls into the wall. He's always had your back, from that day you fell out of the tree and into his arms, or that day when you gotten second place in a contest and cried until he bought you some milk bread and asked you how to play the piano before both your lives were consumed with volleyball. 

He was always there, wiping your tears, offering a voice of encouragement, taping your fingers up, bringing you ice packs and listening to your moping when you take it upon yourself to hold all the blame of losing. He and his gruff attitude and even ruder words, but his intentions were always gentle.

"Iwa-chan." You say as you walk beside him, a week before your second year ends. 

"Mhm?"

"...D-do you..."

Iwaizumi turns to you, looking puzzled at your tied tongue because you're usually very smooth with words, unlike he. "Yeah?" You don't miss the way he's scratching his head with that cute look that's making your palms sweat.

"I-I'll tell you later!" You chicken out, wincing outwardly as you shut your eyes, blindly walking to school as you hear him breathe evenly beside you. There's a faint,  _okay Oikawa_ , and you desperately hide the pink hanging around your cheeks. You've set yourself up- why do you even have to say anything  _oh god_  you're probably not going to hold your breakfast if you keep thinking about it.

For the first time, you don't look forward to practice.

 

You're staring at him all practice, blush sporting heavily on your face. Even the coaches look at you with worry, and one of the managers offers to get you an ice pack to relief your fever but you brush it off, stomach too queasy and feet too weak to hold yourself up. You collapse on the bench and wonder if you're coming down with something when you see it.

It happens in slow motion, because the world is evil like that and likes to make you feel useless again as you spring from the bench to Iwaizumi before his head smacks against the floors. 

He's cold. You yell at Matsukawa to call an ambulance. Your hands finds a weak pulse and Hanamaki is completely white and has to be carried off court. You're repeating his name like a mantra,  _wake up gorilla, wake up Iwa-chan. Hey wake up, Iwa-chan. Wake up. Iwaizumi. Wake up._

Somehow, you're allowed to ride along with the paramedics, who pulls a long chain from underneath Iwaizumi's shirt and you stare at it because you've never seen it before. Not even when you were a kid, which means it's a new occurrence. The paramedics mumble a lot of vague terms and give Iwaizumi oxygen and your hands shake, and they still shake when you sit beside him in the ER, people giving you looks when they realize you come from a powerhouse school.

You stay by his side after the doctor makes his rounds, which is really just another damn blood test as you sit in the plastic chair. A nurse then wheels Iwaizumi to a private room and you follow, mouth drawn to a stiff line as you carry his jersey and water bottle. His jersey smells like the fabric softener his mother uses, and his deodorant. You look at the name stitched onto the left side of the chest, just over the heart, and bring it to your face.

You don't understand. Why now? Wasn't he healthy again? Why? Didn't the doctor declare him that he would be perfectly fine? Why did he collapse? Where did he get the medical tag? Why? What does it say? Why is the world bent on making him suffer? Why? Why?

Why?

"...ngh.."

"Iwa-chan!" The old nickname slips out of your mouth, and you clutch his hand as Iwaizumi blinks a couple of times, looking around at the hospital room. You shove your face in front of him and demand, "Iwa-chan how are you feeling? Don't lie to me- you just collapsed in practice!"

"Shitty." Iwaizumi yawns, and you have a mind to scowl at him. This is serious matters here- how can he be so easy going? He looks down at your laced fingers and softens his look. "...I'm sorry I caused everyone worry."

Then you sniff. "You big, big dummy!"

 

The moment you deem it acceptable to barge into the Iwaizumi household on a Saturday, you bring a pot of adegashi tofu, a backpack full of terrible sci-fi movies he likes, some milk bread you smuggled out of your pantry, and a bottle of ice tea for him. His mother waves hello, yawning as you hand her the pot before going straight to his room and barging in-

-only to falter when you realize he's still sleeping soundly, a foot peeking out of his dark blue comforter as you close the door quietly, dropping to the carpeted floor. He clutches the pillow on his chest loosely, mouth open as he breathes loudly. The doctor's words echo in your mind, that Iwaizumi's been neglecting his sleep thus causing him to black out. You place your backpack beside his, going to the bed and resting your chin beside his face. He's cuter when he's quiet, looking younger since his eyebrows aren't pulled in the middle with your death written all over his face. You tug the blanket up to his collarbone before running a hand through his surprisingly soft hair.

"...what am I going to do about you?" You murmur quietly, lips quirking into a half smile. The walls around his bed are covered in decade old glow in the dark stars that illuminates his room enough for you to see the flutter of his eyelashes, and over on his desk sitting among the textbooks and practice books, is a stuffed alpaca you won back when you dragged the whole team to a carnival.

He lightly snores in reply, and you take that as your answer, putting your head beside his.

Within moments, you fall asleep.

 

In your final year of high school, Iwaizumi is admitted to the hospital.

You don't see it coming. No one saw it coming. You blame yourself. Everyone doesn't blame you. You blame yourself for not noticing his dark circles and tired shoulders.

His voice is always dark red now, and you detest going into the hospital because of the cloud of grey and black hanging over it. Death walks down the hall, receiving lives every now and then as you take residence on the chair beside his bed. You bring him many books, nearly all the ones you own and you find that he likes the fantasy genre, and you get him hooked onto Harry Potter and Studio Ghibli.

You never fail to visit him everyday either after practices. Mondays are reserved solely for him. Sometimes, if your homeroom teacher is feeling kind, she would sign you out of class early with a stack of Iwaizumi's work and a hand written note of get well soon for him. All the volleyball members would try to fit into his small room, and it would be full of gold and laughter until they leave, clapping him on the shoulder.

And then Iwaizumi takes his mask off.

He doesn't care that you will see the IV drip he has to insert into his elbow. He asks you how the team is doing, and you tell him that Kindaichi and Kunimi are regulars. There's an easy smile on his smile and you hold his hand. He strokes your hair and you take a nap as he flips the pages of the book with his other hand as the hours passes slowly.

Even when it should be you the one comforting him, you're the one being comforted.

_("Don't give me that sappy crap, Asskawa! When you're here, I'm the one who comforts you, ya hear?")_

You bring him random things from your house, like one of the many volleyballs you hoarded. On good days, you two play a little game of toss between each other. Yours is even, as expected because you're the official setter, but his is not bad either. You ask his nurse for permission and sneak him some ice cream one day, and you want to keep making his eyes light up.

During weekends, after you finish your homework the night before (and pulling an all nighter), you crawl into his hospital bed, mindful of his IV drip, and watch Harry Potter with him. You fall asleep of course, no one expects you to be a running machine, but the hospital staff brings a tray for Iwaizumi and gives him a second bowl of everything.

"Look at you, inconveniencing everyone."

Your voice is light and you grin because Iwaizumi is tucking into his favorite dish and you live to see him smile. "Silly Iwa-chan."

 

"We lost."  
  
It wasn't a surprise to you anymore. You don't break down this time. You comfort the first years, especially Kindaichi since he thinks it was his fault the last point came from his weak block. You quote Iwaizumi's words and tell them that they should focus on the Spring High. "Shiratorizawa won again. 

Iwaizumi is studying you carefully, wearing one of the team sweaters instead of the ugly hospital clothes that you want to revamp. Honestly, who thinks toothpaste green is an attractive color on Iwa-chan? Dark blue is his color. "Is the team aiming for Spring High then?"

"Yeah, but before that, we're going to host a two week training camp during Golden Week." You open the window to his room, letting the sweltering heat in for a second before you shut it, remembering that there are bugs that can go into the room and you hate bugs. "None of us will be able to visit."

"That's okay- listen, can you help me up?"

"Why?"

"Just do it." Iwaizumi tugs off the blankets and encircles his arms around your neck as you wrap both your arms around him before settling him down onto his wheelchair. Your hands make quick work of the IV fluid and packets of clear liquid before you roll him down the hallway, following his directions as he takes you to a new part of the hospital. 

You nervously wring your hands as you help him hold onto a bar. He tells you to stand at the other end, and you do.

Iwaizumi clutches the bars on either side of him as he awkwardly moves his feet forward. The veins in his arms are bulging out and you bite your lips as you look in awe. He's walking again- using his legs as he struggles for each step. His fingers are curled over the beams and when he reaches you, you catch him when his arms gives out, falling onto the squishy mats with him on top of you.

"...gonna...be so out of shape..." He laughs breathlessly in your ear as your keep your hands around him, smiling into his hair. He smells like cotton and the blistering sunset, and your fingers twists into his sweater because your heart aches heavily and the only thing that seems to make it relax is him. "But Oikawa, promise me you'll bring them to Nationals."

You pull back slightly and see fire inside his eyes, waiting to rage out of control and burn their opponent. He grips the lapels to your uniform like a lifeline, wrinkling the dress shirt. His hand is hot, heat sinking into your body and somehow, you know that Iwaizumi will recover.

"Of course."

 

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Geh! W-Why are you here?"

Iwaizumi angrily rolls himself to you as a nurse continues to wrap your knee with multiple layers of cloth. You'd pray to whatever god was listening to you to not let Iwaizumi have his daily stroll around the emergency hallway. You feel your sweat chill against the back of your neck as Iwaizumi stops right in front of you, eyes narrowed to slits before he reaches forward to flick your forehead.

"OW!"

"You shitty idiot! What have I told you about busting your knee?" The nurse catches your attention as your best friend turns red from rage as she rattles off the pain medications and how to properly take care of your knee. When you turn back, you get another flick on the forehead and you let you a small whine. 

"...so?" He asks you coldly, crossing his arms, and your eyes race to the bands wrapping around his forearms without your permission before your face heats up. Iwaizumi seems to be too mad at you to notice the sudden pink across your cheekbones, and you send another quick prayer. "How'd you injure yourself?"

"...slipped on sweat."

"....."

"....."

"...what an idiot." You drop your jaw, clutching your chest in mock pain as Iwaizumi sourly looks at you. It was not your fault for slipping in a small puddle of sweat!- it's just that you were too distracted on the run up of your service ace before slipping and waving your arms for balance, only to land on your knee painfully before Kindaichi flutters over you like a worried hen. 

"Excuse me, Iwa-chan, but at least I didn't injure myself by tearing the ligament!" You say, pouting as you hobble up, reaching for the handles on his wheelchair before wheeling him back to his room. "And you are  _so_ unbelievably rude- you think I'm dumb enough to hurt my knee?-"

"Yes."

"Terrible, Iwa-chan. You're just terrible."

 

Sometimes you physically miss him.

It would come to you in the middle of the night, the heavy ache in your chest. Sleep would evade you for the next few hours, and you'd mindless roll around your bed as you listen to your parents watch late night sit coms together below you, their laughter painting purple flowers in a field of blue sky. By your desk is a picture of your sister's son- Takeru, and his spiky hair reminds you of the day you fell into Iwaizumi's arms.

Everything remind you of him.

The large oak tree outside your house sheds its last leaf- a fiery red orange color that's the same color of Iwaizumi's voice. You close your eyes and curl yourself up into a ball, knee slightly twinging from how tightly you're hugging yourself. You've always been impatient- impatient for the alien show you liked back when you were in full blown alien phase to start, impatient for your birthday because it means you get to spend a day ordering Iwa-chan around just because. Impatient for your growth spurt because you have to tilt your head up at Iwa-chan (although you get the better end of the deal for that one), impatient for matches to start because you want to go to the top, to the unbeatable Ushiwaka who's a menace. You want Iwaizumi to get better soon so you can start practicing with him and to poke fun at him and playfully smack him with a wringed towel in the changing rooms. You want a lot of things.

You bite your lips, hard enough for you to feel pain even after you've let go of the flesh. You think of how lonely he would be every night- sleeping in a bed that's not his and having a drip in his elbow and relearning how to walk again. He wakes up to a room not belonging to him while you wake up knowing that your mom would be flipping pancakes by the time you finish buttoning your school uniform. He would spend hours in the rehabilitation room with an instructor to move his legs forward- urging the neurons running down his muscles to  _move_  when you're in school yawning.

You sometimes wish it was you who is hospitalized.

Moving on instinct, you rise up, throwing a hoodie over your frame before jumping out of the window and onto the soft ground. It's been raining recently, and you easily blend into the night mist as your feet make quick work to the general hospital.

The nurses by the desk smiles at you in greeting, and you tread your way down the children's wing, listening to their light breathing and hushed tones of parents reading late night stories. They must be full time workers to be visiting so late at night. The tones in their voices are interrupted by glitches of grey and exhaustion, and you turn a corner to the private rooms before you face him.

His textbooks are scattered on his bed, pressing the blankets and you see his chemistry book open to yesterday's set of questions. There are papers cluttered around him- a stack on his nightstand, a few pens on his blanket and a textbook as a clipboard with a wad of paper piled on top, angry lines and diagrams becoming clearer as you quietly step closer. You tilt your head to look at them better, eyes flickering to him as you tug one of them away from his grip.

Attack formations.

They're clearly attack formations- the rectangles representing the court and the circles acting as players with squiggles and arrows with short sentences beside each of them. There's one figure that catches your attention- a circle with your name written carefully in ink. Yours is the only one with a name, even though you know he knows every player's position. Somehow, it makes your eyes prickle and you wipe your eyes hurriedly, thinking that he might wake up because you're crying over such a simple gesture. You pluck a tissue from the table and sniffle, before looking at each of them and memorizing them on the spot.

You suddenly feel dumb because you can't see one vital error in Shiratorizawa's attack.

Iwaizumi shuffles in his sleep, a sigh escaping his mouth as you freeze, frightened that he might wake up before punching your face for not sleeping properly when it's a school day tomorrow. He sighs again, before continuing to breathe, and you look down to see him grasping a few of your fingers.

You must sound like a broken record player for repeating this fact so many times, but he has scarred hands from the days where you were both tots running around the neighborhood, where he would still call you Tooru. You remember his weird taste for carrying band aids everywhere with him and you now smile, gently stroking his fingers and looking at the nails that have grown longer than he would normally kept it at. There are large callouses adorning his palms, the result of gripping the wooden beams for hours on end to achieve one twitch of his muscle. You hold it up to the moonlight filtering in, his cold hand touching your hot face as you whisper-

"I'm in love with you."

 

You come to a stop.

"What's this, Iwa-chan?" Like always, you're following his directions to a new part of the hospital in your daily adventures when he asks you to turn to a new corridor. The room you've entered with him has a weathered looking upright in the corner, dust clinging to the cover as you walk to his side. "A piano?"

"Play me something."

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I haven't played in  _years_ \- and why are you suddenly asking me to play. Do you have a fever?" Why is Iwa-chan acting so weird suddenly? You study him as he fiddles with the blanket covering his legs from the cold draft in the building, IV drip breaking the silence before you open the lid. Dust motes fly around you as you pull out the old bench, looking suspiciously at it. "Does this thing look like it'll break if I sit on it?"

"I hope so." He answers you dryly, barking in laughter when you turn and give him a pout. You play a note and wince at how flat the tuning is, but it has a nice resonating sound despite it's age. "I...had a dream last night."

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Was it me modelling Europe's latest fashion?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Was it me grinding Tobio-chan into dust?"

"Has anyone told you that your sense of humor is really screwed up and you have a bad personality? Because I think they should."

"Iwa-chan!"

"...I had a dream when you were still playing piano, and you were playing that one piece and it's stuck in my head." He makes an attempt of humming it, but he's so tone deaf you don't get anything much out of it except a short excerpt. He wheels himself right next to you, concentrating on something before he half rises from his chair and shoves his body onto the piano bench, your arms wrapping around his to steady him.

"Y-You!-"

"Three weeks of practice." He grunts, shuffling off your lap before plunking down random notes until deciding on one. "Oh- it's this note. The song starts on this note."

You give him an exasperated stare before trying to remember all of your past concert titles. A lot of them slip through your hands, lost in your brain before you play that note and remembering. Despite your good memory of hand signals, you can't concentrate on anything other than the fact that he just sat up for the first time and took a step towards you. You squeeze his hands, and he squeezes back, acknowledging you when the name slips out of your mouth.

"' _Pavane pour une infante defunte?_ '"

He nods, and you wonder if he knows the message behind Ravel's song as you start playing. Your left hand is clumsier than you remember, missing some of the notes and knocking into your right hand. It's ugly, it's short, and you can hear your sister wincing in your head from your bad form. You slow down and remind yourself that Iwa-chan wouldn't care about your terrible elbows sticking out and your bad pedaling. 

"How long has it been?"

You press more keys. "...nearly a decade since I stopped? Why? Are you amazed by my skills?" You expect him to huff and say no because really, the tuning is so flat it's grating your ears and giving you a headache. Even Iwaizumi's deaf tone ears would notice the pitch. You don't expect his next words however.

"I am. Amazed at you, I mean."

You breathe in sharply, fingers crashing to a wrong chord as you let out a cuss word before playing the right chords and restarting where you've left off, following the imaginary sheet music in your mind. Heat floods your cheeks again and you take your nervousness out by pressing the pedal harder than you should, hearing the old instrument groan quietly. You put up a fake act when your heart is racing like you've been running from one end of the school to the other in an attempt to show Kyoutani who's the boss.

"Aw, is Iwa-chan floored by me?"

A snort, and the air is back to normal as you let the last chord hum in the room. "In your dreams, Bratkawa."

 

( _"I made these attack plans for you. The president of the film club visited me the other day and handed me all of the tapes of Ushiwaka from middle school up to the latest game. I've been studying them when you're at school, and I think you're missing one thing-"_

_"Iwa-chan."_

_"-yeah?"_

_"...thank you."_ )

 

Matsukawa is carrying the volleyball team's presents for Iwaizumi in one hand as you lead him and Hanamaki to his room. Both of them are wiping their nose, untangling the tight scarfs around their throats as you snap a picture before sending it to the team of their third years dripping wet from the blizzard outside. There's a large presence of holiday cheer inside the halls of the hospitals, small Christmas trees in every hallway and tinsel wrapped on the elevator frame 

"-and Kindaichi was telling me how his class was watching Finding Nemo and it turned into Finding Kunemo!"

Hanamaki gives the most unattractive snort before laughing as they shoot up the floors, clapping his hands like a seal and repeating "Kunemo Kunimi" like a mantra. Matsukawa joins him and you clutch your stomach before composing yourself as the elevator door opens, walking forward to turn into a hallway-

-and you push both of them onto a wall, dropping into a crouch, clamping your hand on their mouths.

"-I understand you want an operation?"

"Yes, I've talked to my parents about it."

"And they agreed?" The doctor sounds very skeptical about it, and you turn to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, eyes wide.

"They agreed."

"Iwaizumi-kun, you have to understand-"

"Sensei, I want to be able to walk again. I want to do a lot of things before my final year in high school ends. I want to walk up to the principle and receive my diploma and hold a banner with my team. I want to do a lot of things.  _I know._ "

"-that the chances of you waking up is 50%."

All at once, the air in your lungs seem to be sucked out, creating a world of hurt in you. Fifty. You don't get to hear Iwaizumi's reply because your hold on Hanamaki's and Matsuwaka's mouth have slacken, and you see the bag of presents drop to the floor in a muffled thump that goes unnoticed by the doctor, who gravely keeps on talking about if Iwaizumi is sure- and you desperately want to fly into the hallway and shake some sense into your best friend but your leg is unresponsive and there are angry tears in your eyes suddenly.

"O-Oikawa!"

You use the fire exit to vanish.

 

You ignore the world for a few weeks.

Your cellphone is annoying, but you keep it on because you still need to coordinate extra practices with the managers to make up for the lost time they've had over the break. It's surprisingly easy to ignore everything when you enter New Years with a 39 degrees Celsius fever, coughing and sweating as your sister visits home. Takeru shows you a macaroni picture he made of you and you weakly ruffle his head before telling him to leave, you don't want him catching the virus.

You don't go to the hospital. You don't go to practice. You don't leave your room except to take a piss or to replenish your water bottle. The world is stunning definition of confusion and hurt, accompanied with bright, pulsing lights behind your eyelids that make your stomach flutter. There is fire in your body, consuming all thoughts and you wake up more times screaming into the night with tears running down your eyes chasing after a white jersey with the number 4.

You enter the dark gym with your key, entering and breathing in the polish they use on the floors and of the leathery smell from the storage room. You take out all the ball racks and twirl an orange one in your hands, following the whizzing motion until you feel vertigo slamming you, and you jump up and bring your hand down.

The ball is caught by Matsukawa.

You don't look at him. You don't look at Hanamaki behind him or your sister walking forward. You stare at the ground and feel irritation and frustration bubble up, hands forming fists as you glower at the hand gripping your shoulder.

"We need to talk." Your sister says, dark brown eyes glinting.

"There's nothing to talk about. He has a 50% chance of living. He'll survive." Maybe if you say it out loud it will lessen the ache in your heart and head. Maybe if you repeat it until the day of his operation it will have an impact on his chances. You grab another ball before tossing it in the air, bending your spine forward as it lands on the other side of the net.

Your sister stands off to the side, looking out of place with her professional looking heels and dark blue gown that hints of her playing in a concert later that night. You remember Takeru mentioning about your sister performing at a nearby theater. You reach for more volleyballs and push the empty basket away for another one as you blindly snap your wrist up, tossing the ball to high but you jump anyway, hitting each one right in the middle. You aim for the floor behind the blurry white attack line, sniffling and slamming the final ball down. It ricochets off the wall, bouncing away towards you and rolling to a stop a few feet away.

There's always a fear consuming you ever since you saw him fall for the first time in Kitagawa Daiichi's gym. You fear that he will fall again, perhaps shattering his foot or breaking a bone. You always nurture that fear every time you step into the hospital that smells of death and bitter memories that bloom on your skin likes bruises. It consumed you, burning you with fever as you drop down to your knees and stare at the shiny floors.

"...why?" The wretched sound you make is not recognizable to your ears. 

No one answers you. You doesn't expect anyone to. You know the date of the operation is coming up and if luck is on your side, you can visit him before he goes to surgery after you beat Shiratorizawa. There is anger bursting out of your body and you punch a wall.

Your knuckles bleed, blood trailing down your fingers as the dam finally breaks, and you cry.

 

"...hello."

You hover around the doorway. Iwaizumi doesn't look surprised as you take a hesitant step forward. He should be, it's roughly around three in the morning and you've brought him more milk bread and ice tea. You sit in the chair beside his bed. He's wearing one of the better sweaters in his closet, a blue one that brings out the color of his skin and you look in horror at him.

"I-Iwa-chan!-"

He waves it off, holding your fingers as you reach to touch the bandages around his head. "I slipped. Nothing serious. Some kid threw up in the hallway and I was too slow to move to the side. I just slipped." 

You sit back down, eyes wet as your eyelashes clump together. "I-I'm sorry."

"Stupid." He chastises you, and a sudden frightening thought halts your world. What if this is the last time he'll call you names? He squeezes your fingers harder. "Don't be so overworked with worry-"

You stop him by headbutting him. He curses, and you grimace at the pain pounding through your head as he stares at you, eyebrows moving closer to each other. "Iwa-chan. I'm scared. I'm scared you won't wake up from the operation."

"Don't be a dumbass. I'll wake up.." He automatically responds, looking down. He tells you to help him into the wheelchair, and you lead him to the room with the piano again. You pretend to not notice how light he is when you carry him to the bench. 

He asks you to teach him an easy song, and after a few minutes of you playing the first few bars and him rejecting every option, you play Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1 and he breaks a small smile. You both fumble for keys ("No, Iwa-chan, middle C is  _here_.") and you teach him the names. He pulls out a blank sheet of paper and a pen out of his pocket and you draw five straight lines, making a dot and labeling the note name before scribbling the first few bars.

The peace around you is temporary, you find out one day after Aoba Johsai qualifies to the next round of Spring High.

 

"I'm scared."

You thought you were the one who said it first. It's been in your head after all- the fear of losing him to a disease you don't even know much about- but he whispers it into your ear as you piggy back him onto the rooftop. You never knew there was a rooftop in the hospital. 

He clutches your uniform as you seat him down onto a bench. The stars are bright here in the outskirts of the capital. The North Star is easily recognizable as you bend on one knee to crouch across him. "There's nothing to be afraid of, Iwa-chan."

"Yes there is. What if I don't wake up?"

"You better wake up." You don't know how your roles have been reserved, and you see his grimace and realize it's been a bravado all along. You've been played at. It's much more serious than it actually seems. Why didn't you notice it sooner? Why did you believe his every word? Of course he wouldn't want you to worry- you're the captain and there are enough things for you to worry about at school and on the court without him adding to it. A little drop of fury enter you, and you cup his face. "I know you will wake up."

"I'm scared that I won't."

"You will." You touch your forehead to his, his spiked hair tousling your waves. There is a slight wind and you think you can smell spring in the air. Suddenly, you think of cherry blossoms and you taste a bitter tang in your mouth. The cherry blossoms will never be the same again after this. "When you wake up, I'll take you somewhere."

He humors you. "Oh?"

You look into his eyes, dark, fathomless, with no fire that raged on. It's cold and lonely and you move forward, lips brushing his. He wraps a hand around your shoulders, and you succumb to the lips moving against yours. There's only the gentle sound of wind whistling through the bare branches and the feeling of pressed fingers on your jaw. 

"...since when?"

"After Kitagawa Daiichi." You tell him, remembering back to the revelation of it all. "You're my Achilles's heel." 

He kisses you again, smelling like the strange hospital soap and of his own body scent. You both get lost in your own little world as the sky above turns purple. Fear backs down in your heart and the ache in your chest stops aching.

His words ring in your head as you kiss him when you're just about leaving, school backpack around your shoulders as his room turns orange in the sunrise.

_"I'm going to wake up."_

The whole team is gathered around his bed.

They mostly catch him up to what's been happening during school, and Kindaichi eagerly tells Iwaizumi of the Kunimi Kunemo story that has everyone laughing until the nurses poke their heads inside the room with a frightening scowl to hush up or they'll drag security in there. You stand beside him, and the team doesn't bat an eye when he laces your fingers with his, your hands resting on top of his blanket.

You blush from Matsukawa's wink and Hanamaki's eyebrow wiggle.

"Tell us when you wake up from the operation!" Kindaichi says, and you glance at the clock to see that you only have thirty minutes before you're due to step inside the city's gym for the semifinals. Your jersey today feels static-y on your dry skin and you feel a squeeze for your vice captain, reassuring you. "We'll make sure to attack Ushijima with the plans you made!"

Iwaizumi laughs, and you stare at the pink on his cheeks and the fire in his eyes like a blind man seeing the world for the first time. There's a gentle touch on your elbow and you snap out of it, the team wolf whistling as you turn beet red. Iwaizumi snarks at you teasingly, saying what your fangirls would think how much of a loser you are for turning that dark of a red, and you pout and tease him back.

When it's time to leave, everyone leans down to hug their vice captain, and they leave the room in a chorus of 'we'll see you in the evening!', waiting at the doorway and giving some privacy to you.

You bend down to kiss him, light and sweet. He extends a fist towards you, and you bump it.

"Set the stage for them."

"I will." You promise. You will set the stage for him to make his first and final debut of his senior year in high school.

 

_Dear Oikawa Tooru,_

_One of my first memories I remember is looking up from a caterpillar to see a whiny ass crybaby clinging onto a broken branch in April. The sakura trees were in season and my mom had dusted some off my hair earlier that day._

_You fucking fell on me._

_You're an ugly crier. You're whiny as fuck and you don't know the limits of your own body. I felt like I was hired to be your babysitter when you were younger since you cried at the littlest things. I know you still remember the glue accident. Don't think I've forgotten. You stopped crying when you learned how to make your eyes look like a puppy's to make things happen a certain way for you. You're unbelievable._

_I love you._

 

You shake Ushiwaka's hand. He looks down and you and you give him a thin smile as you walk back towards your team. You see Kageyama sitting in the stands with Shorty beside him and you close your eyes, breathing in as you throw up the ball.

On the exhale, you land your first service ace.

 

_I'm Iwaizumi Hajime and I was born on June 10th and my favorite food is adegashi tofu. The color of my voice is red orange and my first best friend turned out to be my neighbor. He's taller than I am and I kick his shins and wrestle him to the ground. I have a short temper and he knows that. I can read him like a book and I remember sitting on one of his first concerts and thinking how cool he was on the piano._

_Your sister is a couple of years older than you, and I think she was always jealous of how talented you were. Your mother was sad when you decided to stop, but I was happy. I was disgustingly happy when you packed all of your musical awards and books in a box. My parents probably knew the signs already- that I was hopelessly in love with my dumbass of a neighbor who has the shittiest fashion sense in the world. Honestly. How can you think plaid and stripes can go together? Dumbass._

_I'm sorry for suddenly being hospitalized. I lied to you. I wasn't okay. There was something wrong with me and I couldn't walk again. It's a disorder that would impact me if I didn't get a risky surgery._

_At first I thought I could beat it. I've heard it happen. I kept practicing with you. I wanted to beat Ushiwaka too. I want the banner, but I was content with letting you have the spotlight. You were born for it after all. I don't mind being in the shadow- at least no one would see me kick you. Also, I'm sorry about the bruises. (You deserve some of it, though.) I wish you would take better care of yourself. Your sister dropped by a few months ago without you knowing and told me you've been looking thin. Be sure to eat well, idiot._

_(She really, really loves you, you know?)_

 

Iwaizumi's mother walks over to you after the game is over, letter in her hand. You give her a puzzled look before accepting it. You see the envelope being addressed to you.

 

_Your name is Oikawa Tooru and your taste in fashion could rival a raccoon's and you're amazing and I want you to know that. You're fucking amazing but you never realize how great you are because you're constantly looking forward to improve, and while that **is** a good thing, I don't think you spend enough time evaluating how far you've move forward. Your favorite food is milk bread that is unhealthy for you and you like cheesy sci-fi movies. I'm not going to mention your alien phase because I'm sure you're still an alien dork somewhere deep down._

_Today I saw the North Star when you kissed me._

_I also found out that the doctor was being kind to me and told me the wrong fact. My chance is 20%. Not 50%._

_Twenty percent._

_I'm afraid, Oikawa. I'm afraid I won't wake up and I'll leave everyone behind. I'm afraid that once I go under anesthesia I won't be able to open my eyes again. Shit, I'm so fucking afraid of the surgery, but I guess you can see through that like I can read you like an open book, huh? I'm not going to apologize for not making a move earlier because I don't think I'll make it. I didn't want to make it harder for you. There. I said it._

_I really like biology and chemistry. I like English- be sure to thank your sister for lending me her English version of Harry Potter. She should find a thank you note in the middle of the third book. I miss school. I miss volleyball. I miss spiking and I miss the sports festival and I really want to know who this Mad Dog-chan Kindaichi keeps texting me about. I know you'll have a hard time handling him, so I'm laughing right now because I can imagine you trying to make him listen to you. Maybe you'll see what it's like to look after a brat. I love you, idiot._

_My plan is as soon as I wake up and get released from the hospital, I would go to the park where we first meet and call you. Remember about the promise of you taking me somewhere when I'm all healthy again? My mother dropped a few brochures before she left my room. She wants us to go on a vacation to the hot springs (don't worry your mom has your tickets already). But let's go to the sakura festival before that. I really want to see them in full blown around the fountain. After that we can go to the gym and I'll watch the match with you. Do you think Matsukawa can make us some ramen?_

_We should gather the team and watch Finding Nemo. Or we can watch Spirited Away. What do you think?_

_You made me realize that I care about you more than a friend. When you nearly hit Kageyama? I saw a part of you that was weak, and I hope you remember those words in the future. You are not the only one who should be strong. We are here. Your team is here, your mom's here, and you have your sister and Takeru you can count on._

_And I'm here, even though you'll probably be still in your jersey when you read this. Do you hear me, Asskawa? I'm here and I will always be here for you. You'll never be alone._

_I'm getting pretty good at the first few bars of Gymnopedie. You should teach me the rest._

 

You re read the letter again in the safety of your own room. You can't move. You busted your knee on the last serve and the paramedics have strapped a cold pack onto it. You know that it'll heal again- it's just a minor injury. You re read the letter like it's your life line as the sakura petals rain outside. 

The jersey around your shoulders have not been washed and you couldn't care less how you looked right now. You take the short walk to the park and see the small playground before trying to squeeze into one of the tubes. Your shoulders won't budge and you adamantly refuse to accept that you've wedged yourself in there.

After cursing for a good three minute, you pop out, vowing never to go in there without someone to drag you back out. You hold the letter in your hands and watch the clock strike seven, sun rising over the tree line.

 

_The ending to this letter will be cheesy as fuck so brace yourself._

_I love the way you smile sincerely. You have a terrible personality. Be friendlier to Kageyama, jeez, that kid looks up to you. I've always wondered which laundry soap your mother uses because your clothes always smells really good. I can't believe I just wrote that down- I'm blaming you for all of the shit I'm saying right now, just so you know. There's one dress shirt Takeru picked out for you- you wore it the other day when you visited during the weekend and we were marathoning Shark Week on your laptop. It's dark blue and it sets your, fuck I don't know, skin really nicely. Your hair is always good even though you constantly worry about it. Worry less, idiot._

_I wish I have your hands. I like holding them. They're strong boned but you sprain the ligament if you set the ball off funnily. You tend to do that after Ushiwaka. At least ice them when you get home. Learn how to make something else other than milk bread. How will you survive in university?_

_One time, I woke up before you when you slept in my hospital bed. I never realize how weird the pillows felt. Your head was thrown back and you looked so uncomfortable that I took a picture. It's my wallpaper. I love you too, dumbass. And no, I'm never deleting it because despite your clear disgust for hospital beds, you looked really peaceful. It was summer and I could hear the bugs humming outside. I wish I can go to the beach and play beach volleyball and sit around a fire with everyone... That'd be really nice._

_There's my acceptance letter to the University of Tokyo along with this letter. I know you also got a recommendation from them. Reply dumbass- I already did._

_I'll see you soon._

 

_Vice Captain of Aoba Johsai,_

_Iwaizumi Hajime._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"I'm scared."_

_"There's nothing to be afraid of, Iwa-chan."_

_"Yes there is. What if I don't wake up?"_

 

 

 

"Hey."

He stands before you, dressed in the same exact clothes as you with his backpack slung over one shoulder. His voice turns orange and you see the fire smolder in his eyes as you run to him. He hugs you back and you fist your hands into his jersey.

"We won."

"I heard." He murmurs back, standing on his two legs as you press a kiss to his mouth. His acceptance letter is crumpled in your grip and you pull out two tickets to the sakura festival. He looks at them and blushes, and you're reminded of how normal everything is now and you want to laugh and cry at the same time because you don't remember the last time he's wearing the jersey while standing up properly. There's no IV drip beside him or a wheelchair and he brushes your tears carefully,  _tsk_ -ing softly.

"Iwa-chan?"

"Hm?" You don't have to look down at him- he's as tall as you and you slip the letter back into your pocket.

"I'm really,  _really_ happy."

He headbutts you gently, holding your hands in front of you. The sakura trees by the clock sheds more petals and you brush off some of the flowers embedded in his hair.

"I'm happy too." 

* * *

You see him jump into the air- time stopping as he reaches the highest point of his jump before bringing his hand down. The ball lands and the score card flips. The whistle blows and you're suddenly attacked by everyone. There are lead weights in your legs and you're drenched in sweat as your teammates shout in your ear, hands pressed onto your jersey. The sound is gold this time. Gold with excitement, tiredness and you embrace it. You're bathed in gold and you let out a hoarse laugh 

Iwaizumi pulls you up and you're smothered into his shoulder. Kunimi and Kindaichi are wrapping the banner around the both of you and the crowd is screaming, waving, cheering, crying and yelling as your vision turns blurry from the tears. You both lift the silky fabric of the banner with one hand before gripping each other's hand, cameras trained to capture your every emotion.

Later, once your eyes returned to it's normal color and you've demolished at least two packs of tissues from your coach and mother, your team stands outside the gym, looking out to the clock and watching the sakura trees sway in the wind, leaves budding into a light green color.

His face is bathed in sunset again, and you link your hands with his, promise rings brushing together before you lean in for another kiss, smiling.

 

_"I'm Oikawa Tooru! What's your name?"_

_"Iwaizumi Hajime."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> erm i live for cheesy endings? was the promise rings too much? (it was engagement rings before ok. but i decided they were too young)


End file.
